


Snack Attack

by SixthSeason



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Clothes Sharing, Fluff, Multi, Reader Insert, Sans - Freeform, Sans thoroughly kicks your ass at Mario Kart - Freeform, Sans/ female reader, Sans/ male reader, Sans/Non-Binary reader, Tea, You really love snacks - Freeform, platonic, rainy day, reader - Freeform, romantic, sans/reader - Freeform, snacks, video games - Freeform, you - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 11:42:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18093638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixthSeason/pseuds/SixthSeason
Summary: A rough week at work has you going to your local store to stock up on some nummies for a three-day weekend. You came searching for snacks, but weren't expecting to find a friend.





	Snack Attack

**N** othing was going right for you today, starting from the moment you woke up. From an accidental PM alarm clock, to walking in to your asshole of a boss chewing you out for tardiness, to an afternoon downpour when you didn’t bring an umbrella, to the aforementioned rain soaking right through your clothes and down to the bone.

Needless to say, you were absolutely miserable.

You took tomorrow off- you needed a full three-day weekend to recover from this sorry excuse of a day. You had it all planned out; you were going to stock up on your favorite snacks, dig through the bargain bin for really cheesy-looking movies, go home, take a warm bath, and watch those cheesy movies while you critiqued them out loud.

Just the thought of being able to look forward to the next three days of self-care brightens your mood a little. You make a beeline for the snack aisle, choosing out several pouches and bags of your choice munchies, before absently grabbing for the last bag of your all-time favorite snacks.

At least, you were going to, until a hand grabbed it at the same time as you.

You pause, following the hand that still held the bag, and finding a grinning skeleton with a blue hoodie and basketball shorts on. His feet donned socks and slippers completely soaked through due to the rain, but it didn’t seem to bother him. Nor did he seem bothered by the fact that you were still holding onto the bag of snacks that you had gone for. Still, you sheepishly withdrew your hand.

“Sorry, go ahead.” You gestured for him to take the bag.

“you sure? with the way you grabbed that bag, looks like you need it more than i do.”

Crap, had you come off as that desperate? You feel your face grow warm and you quickly turn your eyes to the handbasket of snacks you’re holding. “No, it’s fine. I got plenty other options in here as is.”

The skeleton seems to regard you for a bit before he picks up the bag of snacks—your favorite one. It was a small loss, but you’d take it on the chin. Chances were they would be stocked by tomorrow, and if you had a hankering for it, you’d come back and---

You blink as you hear the rustle of the bag of snacks. The skeleton held it out to you.

“here. ‘s no problem. you can have it---”

What a sweetheart.

“Oh, thanks--”

“for the low, low price of 25$”

What a shithead.

You frown as he jiggles the bag in front of you, his eyes flickering between your face and the bag of snacks. “well? we got a deal?”

“No.” You huff. “That thing costs 2.49$, why would I pay 25$ for it?”

“hm. you have a point. these are pretty high-quality snacks.” He looks over to the shelf. “and judging by all that empty shelf space, they must be pretty popular. 25$ isn’t going to cut it, is it? 55$ it is.”

Your frown gets deeper, and your arms cross in front of your chest. He laughs and shakes his head, setting it back down on the shelf. “i’m just messing with you. if you want it, it’s yours---oh.” He barely gotten the words out before an older lady reached over the skeleton with ease and plucked the last bag from off the shelf. The both of you watch as she walks down the aisle, the final bag of your beloved snacks being whisked away.

For a while, you both stare after the lady before meeting each other’s eyes. You can’t contain the laughter, and soon, he joins in, and the two of you draw stares as you both belt out laughs in the snack aisle. But neither of you paid it any mind. How was that for luck? The two of you had been so caught up that you both missed out on the prize.

When your laughter finally dies down, you wipe at your eyes and sigh, relishing in the warm blooming that your bout of laughter brought, especially after such a crappy day. You had just turned to thank the skeleton, but he caught you by surprise by tossing a bag of your favorite snacks into your handbasket. He gives you a wink and a wave before he heads toward the checkout area, leaving you to watch after him.

Nice guy. Funny guy. You begin to wonder---No, nevermind that. You have to get home before these soaked clothes give you a cold.

* * *

 

Your phone blows up on Saturday. Your boss quickly fills your mailbox with voicemails, begging you to come in and give a hand, but you ignore them all, silencing your phone as you turn your attention back to the cheesy movie. The main character had stopped by an ice-cream parlor, and came out of the store with the most intricate looking ice-cream sundae in a waffle bowl, topped with all of your favorite ice-cream toppings. Your mouth waters immediately, and you hit pause, reaching for your phone and typing a note of all of the ingredients on screen. Time for a second run.

 

* * *

Maraschino cherries, chopped nuts, sprinkles, caramel topping, hot fudge topping, whipped cream, chocolate chips, waffle cones….this was going to be one top-heavy sundae, but you didn’t care. Your mouth was already anticipating your soon to be delicious creation. You debate getting mini-marshmallows or not when you hear a familiar voice behind you.

“nice shirt.”

You turn to find the skeleton behind you again. You quickly look down to check which shirt you were wearing. Honestly, you were so focused on getting your dream sundae that you didn’t bother to pay attention to what you put on before you left your home. It was a black shirt that read “DON’T TOUCH ME, PEASANT!” in bold white letters.

“Heh, thanks. Gets the message across, doesn’t it?”

“does it?”

You give him a noncommittal shrug before placing the bag of mini-marshmallows in the basket. “Well, haven’t been touched yet, have I?”

He’s quiet for a moment as he looks at you, before raising a single finger and poking you right in the forehead. You find yourself speechless for a moment--you’ve joked with friends that if you were touched while wearing this shirt, you were going to go HAM on that person, but now that it was happening, what could you do?

His finger drops away before eyeing your shirt again. “don’t really think it gets the message across. better get a refund, huh?”

You snort before heading over to the checkout counter, sparing him one last glance before he dips forward in an exaggerated bow before retreating down the aisle. What a goof, you think to yourself before greeting the cashier. It’s not until you’re all the way home until it hits you:

You completely forgot to get the ice cream.

* * *

Sunday.

One more day before you have to go back into work and start the cycle all over again. You’d come in, your boss would tear you a new one for something you didn’t even do, and then ride you for the rest of the day. You groan, burrowing yourself deeper into your blanket cocoon. Not even the cheesy movies could cheer you up. And the snacks that you loved had begun to taste like ash in your mouth. This job was killing you slowly.

You decide you can’t just sit around the house and wait for tomorrow to come. If this was your last day of freedom before returning to torment, you may as well enjoy it. You hastily throw on some comfortable clothes and decide to head down to the park for a walk. It’s raining outside, but that doesn’t deter you as you grab your umbrella and leave your home. The rain isn’t cold, and it’s not raining so hard that you nearly lose it in a gust of wind. There’s a break in the clouds not too far off, and the beginnings of a rainbow begin to form. You smile, pausing to appreciate the beauty of nature…

And the sudden urge for a certain fruity candy that could somehow stimulate the taste buds to think that they were ingesting a rainbow.

Time for another trip.

* * *

A bag of Skittles. Perfect.

You look around, half-expecting the skeleton dude to be there, before catching yourself. Why did you care if the skeleton was there or not? It wasn’t like you guys were friends--after all, you’ve only bumped into each other twice, what made you think a third time would be possible?

“my bad. i’ll get it cleaned up.”

Perhaps more possible than you think. You hear his voice an aisle over, followed by the impatient sigh of another voice.

“Did you put the warning on the refrigerator like I told you?”

You peek around the corner, seeing your fellow skeletal shopper being loomed over by a boss-looking man wearing the uniform of the grocery store.

“slipped my mind.”

“That’s the fifth time this week!” He snapped, jabbing the skeleton in the chest with a finger. “These kids aren’t going to take responsibility for this---Milk Mayhem challenge going around unless we put up a warning that they’ll be prosecuted for doing it!”

“gallon joust.” He said, scratching at one of his cheekbones.

“What?”

“‘s called the gallon joust.”

“I don’t care what it’s called! Get this cleaned up, you lazy idiot!” The man bellowed, turning on his heel and storming off towards what you assumed was an office. You glared after the man, being reminded of your own shitty boss. One that barked orders, never helped out, called names, and judged people without getting to know them…

“don’t moooove. or else you’re gonna slip and fall.”

You jump, twirling to find the skeleton behind you--somehow. You swore he was just in front of you, but---Wait. Was it just you, or did his smile seem...off?

“Are you okay?” You blurt without thinking.

“yeah, i wasn’t around when these kids did the joust---”

“No, I mean---” You gesture to where the man had stormed off to earlier. “--That wasn’t cool. I know what that’s like firsthand.”

He shrugs. “eh, what can you do?”

“Not be a complete jerkwad towards you?”

“...heh.” It’s a small laugh, but you feel yourself perk up a little at the sound. “well, i didn’t do what he asked me to, so i can kinda see where he’s coming from. i’m used to it.”

“Doesn’t make it okay.”

He doesn’t answer, his fingers gripping the mop as he looks down at the milk still spilled on the floor. With the way his shoulders droop and his spine slumps forward, you can tell he’s tired. You’ve held that posture so many times yourself in the past---and present. You feel for him, carefully reaching out and putting a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at you, confused.

“Uh--” You nearly lose your nerve, but you press through. You’d have wanted someone to do this for you back then, when you were in need of help. In need of support. In need of a friend. “You---uh---like video games?”

“yeah.”

“Oh, cool. I was just---what time do you get off work?”

He checks his watch briefly, before looking at the puddle of milk on the floor, then back to the office. For a long time, he doesn’t answer, before taking the mop and dropping it with a clatter among the puddle. His smile slowly reverted back to its relaxed state. “you’re in luck. i’m off now. what’s this about video games?”

The door to the office opened again, and the boss man stormed out to look at the puddle that had yet to be mopped. He glowered at the skeleton, violently gesturing to the mess of milk. “Whaddya doing, Sans!?” He snapped. “This was supposed to be done an hour ago! Whaddya standing around like a half-wit for!?”

Anger billowed up inside you, and you had just gone to say something to the man before you were intercepted by a skeletal hand on your forearm. The skeleton---Sans, guided you away from the still shouting man while talking to you as if his former boss wasn’t cussing up a blue streak behind the two of you as you both walked out the store.

* * *

You brought Sans home that evening.

It wasn’t in the plan, but after seeing his mode of transportation (a tricycle), and with the rain growing heavier and heavier, you offered he come over, at least until the weather was a lot less miserable. The two of you practically dive in through your front door, sopping wet, both of your socks making comedic _squish_ sounds as you walked around.

“rain always seems to get heavier the moment you step outside. _water_ the odds?”

You snort at the pun, taking off one of your wet socks and chucking it at him, and it lands on his face with a wet _slap._ You gasp, quickly apologizing. You had fully expected him to dodge it, and now it lay across his face.

“Sorry, Sans! I--I---” You trail off, your eyes lighting up as you come up with a pun. “I sock, don’t I?”

Now came his turn to snort at your pun, peeling the sock off his face and offering it back to you. “i’m gonna steal that one.” He had just gone to sit on the sofa before you stopped him.

“Hey, woah, you have to change out of those clothes first.” You lead him upstairs to your bedroom. “Probably won’t fit, but pick whatever you want, and I’ll throw your wet clothes in the dryer, okay?”

“hey, c’mon, you don’t have to do all that.”

“I want to.”

He stares up at you for a moment, and you clear your throat, feeling your face heat under his gaze. “I’ll let you get changed, okay?” You usher him into your room and close the door behind him before heading back downstairs and brewing some tea for the both of you. You did mean it, though. After seeing him take that abuse from his boss, your heart just broke for the skeleton. You knew full well what it was like to have someone tear you down day in and day out, and at the end of the day, all you could do is replay all the shitty parts of your work day, and have it happen all over again tomorrow.

You didn’t know how long Sans had been enduring that himself, but you didn’t want him to end up where you were. Broken down, tired every day, dreading Mondays---

“yo.” Sans called from behind. You turned to find him in your “DON’T TOUCH ME, PEASANT!” shirt, and a pair of bike shorts. Well, they would be shorts on you, but on Sans, they were borderline capris. He wasn’t kidding, he liked that shirt.

“‘Sup.” You greet back. “Do you take sugar or honey in your tea?”

“surprise me.”

Sugar was probably the safer bet, you think as you scoop two teaspoons in and handed him a cup before going upstairs to change out of your clothes. You went with a plain t-shirt and flannel pajama bottoms. You came back downstairs to find Sans seated on your sofa already. Grabbing the blanket off the back of your couch, you toss it at him before getting your Wii set up.

“So, do you like Mario Kart?”

“yeah.”

“Are you any good at it?” You challenge, looking at him smugly before offering him a controller.

“well, you’re just going to have to find out, aren’t you?”

And find out you did. At first, he lagged behind. Far behind. Nearly to the point where you and all the other racers overlapped him. For a moment, you pitied him, trying to ease up on him a bit. But all the pity flew out the window when he launched a blue shell at you, throwing off your race completely and causing you to fall into sixth place at the last lap. Another race. He did it again. Another race, he did it once more.

At this point you were on your knees in front of the TV screen, angrily driving your character and struggling to keep Sans out of last place.

“hey. got a riddle for you.” He said. “what’s blue and looks like a red shell?”

“I swear to god, if you---” The moment--no, the _second_ you turned, he sure enough launched the blue shell, and your character spun out and off the map. You spring up from where you had been kneeling and turn on him, grabbing the pillows from off your sofa and hitting him with them both. He laughed as he tried to half-heartedly dodge your onslaught, blocking the pillows with his forearm. It’s not long before you are both laughing on the floor to the point both of your breaths come out as wheezing gasps. You sigh, your heart feeling warm and content, and a delightful ache of your cheek muscles came forth as you smiled the hardest you had in awhile. You look over at Sans, who had somehow summoned a bag of your favorite snacks, opening it and offering you some.

“thanks.” He says.

“For what?”

“today.”

“Anytime.”

“‘anytime’? really?” He chuckles, taking some of the snacks from the bag for himself.

“Yeah. Let’s do this again, real soon.”

“how about tomorrow afternoon?”

Oh, tomorrow afternoon wasn’t going to cut it. You had work tomorrow and--Wait, why were you even entertaining that thought? You shake your head, turning to Sans with a smile “Heck yeah. Tomorrow afternoon. It's a date."

Work could wait as long as it needed.

 


End file.
